This is the "Ryan For Dogs" blog...I know, I know.
But I am admitting I have always loved cats as well. I grew up with cats and dogs in the household and have always liked both.
This particular blog entry, I am dedicating to "Mimosa (Mim for short)". She had a heart attack and died in my arms last Friday afternoon at the age of nine. A complete surprise; my world is a little dimmer for now.
The following essay is for all of you who have lost a pet close to your heart.
Mim (top) was the best cat I have seen in my entire life. She was even trained to use the toilet bowl!
The Apple of My Eye
I used to sing to her. Often, my voice was off-key, but it didn’t matter…we had a connection which bridged petty judgment. What mattered was we had each other. True symbiosis.
My heart was pounding in my chest and my lungs burned as I ran down the street. A mere annoyance compared with the pain of my psyche, the rush of guilt waiting to drown me. As I clutched her limp and floppy body to my breast, I knew I was late. As I charged through the doors and handed her to the professionals, my insides ached; I tried to act composed. For a brief time (seconds?) I remained calm, cool.
I was late; too much time had passed and she meant the world to me.
I collapsed, shaking with grief.
The apple of my eye.
No judgments. Triumphant or disgraced, I entered my home every evening to the warmest of greetings. Had I graced the world that day with integrity or with cowardice, I was still accepted and adored. And I gave my affection to her as she did to me.
When I placed her cold, stiff body into the earth, the pain was exquisite. I wondered how it could hurt more than burying my parents or losing a partner. I wondered how I would function without my warmest companion.
The critics say we are flawed to invest affection into an area which we are not challenged to grow. “They don’t talk back to you”, is the knock. “Too easy”, the critics say.
I would admit they accept us exactly as we are, they don’t ask for personal growth.
Exactly as we are.
Interesting how I spend my life searching for people who do exactly as she did.
How I try and fail, and try again to accept my peers as she accepted me.